The Legend of Lady Pan
by Antidote
Summary: Every one knows the story of Peter Pan... but what about his mother's adventure to find him. Complete and utter nonsense with crossovers and crap. Captain hook X OC


The Legend of Lady Pan

By: Antidote

Prelude to the symphony

This is actually (what I am hoping to be) my last serious fan fiction that will be longer than standards call for. This has nothing to do with the storyline from any of the Peter Pan novels… only brief glimpses from the Disney versions. I gave my brother the idea one day about what would Peter's mother be like we had a go at her instead of Disney (This fan fiction, in my opinion has the same motive as the movie Big Fish). There is very little crossover between pirates (just a few glimpses of Captain Jack Sparrow) but other than that, it is just a tale from some of the laziest fan fiction writers on the planet. This is also one of the biggest collaborations as well. It will be Sarah, Nathaniel, Brian, John and maybe Momo. This is also so twisted… that we link famous pirates from different centuries together… U.S. presidents… different Disney movies… Holy Tortuga… the list goes on! So I am telling you all of this just so you are aware! Rated m like all of our other stories… mostly for language, women acting whorish… lots of violence and maybe a lemon or two (don't want to keep you all bored now do I?); in Strangella's deviant art page is going to be the fan art for her image.

This is also going to be the first time in which we give any dedications to: Lady Pan (the actual one from Disneyland), Momo and surprisingly Liz for inspiring us…

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As old as old lady Rutherford was, she was never one to show it; with how quickly she was to greet you, her fiery temper that to rival any youngster and her skills as sharp as a hawk, you would have never've known she had only so little to live. Leukemia may have set her some boundaries, but she found nearby resources that had exceeded them. Like every day of her life, she had found a new adventure just by the window overlooking the weeded garden.

She quickly wrapped her dusty pink shawl over her shoulders and waited for the man who was supposed to arrive their soon. Apprehension was a certain poison to her, for she had little patience to begin with and each living moment seemed to torment her as the clock kept striking yet another second from her life.

"Ah, there he is," she quickly jumped up from her chair, as the doorbell rang, in order to answer the door. The man she had been waiting for was indeed a person she knew since he was a boy, she could have even said she knew him before that, but it would have almost been incorrect to say. Now that he was here, she would surly allow him entry into her humble abode. She very slowly opened the door and peered through the small crack just to make sure.

"Yes?" she called out in such a soft sweet voice.

"Um, Lady Rutherford's, it's me… peter. We met at the firm. I came to talk about your wanting to proceed will a will?" his voice was shaky and none to self confident.

"Ah yes, do come in," she opened the door just wide enough so he could slip in. He smoothed his coat after uncomfortably pressing himself against the way; and as unpleasant as it was, peering into this lady's home was somewhat soothing. Something about all of this seemed familiar to him.

Pictures were strung up against the wall in a museum sort of way; most of them black and white… others seemed to be ancient portraits of what looked like great adventures that only she knew the history of. Many portraits seemed to have only two figures similar; a young woman with violent curly red hair and thick eye brows that seemed almost out of place for such a kind look, and a middle aged man with dark thick wavy hair pulled back and soft brown eyes that seemed as out of place as his partner (his face seemed awfully sinister). Both were adorned in cutlasses and pistols bearing proud and arrogant looks of what might have been a hard life almost like-.

"I see you looking up at me and my husband's portraits," she smiled. She was so soft in the way she spoke, in an unnatural sort of way that seemed to hold back cured words from long ago.

"Your husband?"

"In that portrait, he went by a different name," she led him over to the kitchen where he hung his coat up and pulled her a chair to sit. He too sat down, but only until he was sure she was quite comfortable.

"I'm sorry, would you like some tea…" she asked while getting up sharply. It surprised him to see her so swift in her movements that he was momentarily thrown off. "Who knows, it may bring back a few of those fond memories." Her words almost covered him like a blanket; they were thick yet soft; warm yet firm, and yet, for all he considered her to be old, he took her up on her offer.

"Yes, I suppose I would."

"I know I asked you here to lend me a hand with the old will, and I know that I am not as young as I used to be; and I'm sure you are too old to be told a good bedtime story to, but, would you like to hear a story to pass the time while you get the paperwork all ready?" she asked him in a series of violent coughs. He harsh mucus in her lungs and made it ever so difficult for her to do much of anything during her last few days.

"But of course, I am the guest and would be pleased to hear it," he said cautiously. It was not his intention to come off sounding rude or bored but he neither wanted to spend a good quantity of his time listening to what promised to be a nonsense story filled with bogus hogwash.

"I promise to stop if I bore you…" she glanced over her shoulder to see the lawyer bending over his brief case. No doubt he wasn't a little boy anymore, and she knew that very well.

"What is the story about?"

"The search for my family… primarily my first son. The story is downright crude with fantasy but I assure you, it is quite real. As real as a thirteen year old girl losing both her son and husband in the same month. For you see, back then… I had no real means to get around and with him gone… well life was never the same."

"Then… all of these portraits are-"

"Yes… those are my husband and I, I can assure you. I had them commissioned in Italy, France and in Cairo, Egypt. Back then… it was dangerous to have a woman on ship, much less the captain of it. That was why they named all of their ships after women."

"You look like a pirate," he flatly stated. She neither took offence to it but her face almost looked proud, if just for a brief moment, she had reflected on a past memory of her glory days.

"I was! In fact, I was the captain! But that is to place to start…"

"Start at the beginning," he bid her to go on… in partial disbelief, and curiosity.

"Oh very well, but mind you don't get carried away, this is still a story after all.

I was born in Rothbury which is in Northumberland, England to a Persian mother and an Irish father, Ireland was so close, they ended up moving into a small manor by the river with his family's large wealth. My mother married my father at an old age of seventeen. He met her as a soprano to the opera, Gypsy woman and fell in love with her at almost first glance. Of course his family first detested their marriage… but it couldn't be helped. He was head over heels for her and had made the decision final when she agreed." He coughed and smiled at her as she placed the kettle onto the stove and lit the fire.

"I was born a few years later and raised by my nanny; both my mother and father were social butterflies and loved to go out. My mother read tarot cards to entertain guests and my father was a professional small talker. Back then, my nanny was bought from a slave trader and worked as a slave until she could buy her freedom. She worked in our manor up until the day she died… come to think of it, Loretta was my only friend in the world growing up. She was just like me; different down to our very cores. She was a voodoo priestess and I was born to be fortune teller's daughter. She taught me everything I knew. During my schooling, I learned to be a lady but at night, Loretta would take me to the river, and we'd conjure up spirits right there! One she died… I left the life I had grown into and became a bland English girl, I learned how to read and write, recited poetry, learned how to sew and cook and groom myself till my scalp burned from combing it too much."

"In those days, I thought I was going to say young forever…"

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Ah yes. The life and times of Lady Agatha Rutherford! Um… there is really nothing I have to say, and don't give me any comments saying I'm racist! I very well am not! I have dated many African Americans, in fact, most of my friends are either Mexicans or African American! Oh this is Sarah by the way. Your insane-evil hostess at your service! If you want to comment… go ahead, but don't send junk, give me grammatical errors and spelling advice. NO PLOT SUGGESTIONS OR COMMENTS ON HOW YOU THINK MY STORY SHOULD BE LIKE THE NOVEL OR MOVIES!!! If you do… I WILL MAKE YOU WALK THE PLANK!!!


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